The Grace Girls (39 page)

‘When?’ Heather asked. ‘I only decided that I would come this afternoon.’

‘Jim called in after you left and I told him,’ Liz explaine
d calmly and in a low voice, desperately hoping that it w
ould encourage her friend to respond in a similar mann
er. ‘And when he went back up home Gerry was sitting in the house waiting for him.’

Heather took a long deep breath.

‘I gave Jim hell for telling him,’ Liz said, sounding on the verge of tears now. ‘I only found out about ten minutes ago. We were just standin’ chatting when Jim just said casually that he wouldn’t be surprised if Gerry called in.’ She held her hands palm-up. ‘He came out with it, just like that – as if there wasn’t a problem in the world about him coming here.’

‘And what did you say?’ Heather said in a flat, resigned voice. She knew her friend well enough to tell that she had not been involved in any deliberate betrayal.

Just like herself, Liz had underestimated Gerry Stewart.

‘I went absolutely mad,’ Liz said. ‘But it’s as if you can’t get through to him.’ She stopped, swallowing back the tears.

It dawned on Heather now that this is what they had been arguing about when she saw them earlier on.

‘Jim’s just terrified that Gerry might go to Australia and he
’ll never see him again,’ Liz continued. ‘He thinks that you might change your mind and take Gerry back, and then
everythin’ will be all hunky-dory the way it was before. He keeps goin’ on about the four of us going out together at the weekends, or if you and Gerry got married then us takin’ turns to visit each other’s houses – all that kind of rubbish.’

Heather nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. Eventually she looked up at her friend. ‘Well, there’s nothing can be done about it now, it’s just a case of getting through the night.’

‘Oh, I’m really sorry this has happened,’ Liz whispered. ‘I feel terrible . . .’

‘It’s OK,’ Heather said, attempting a smile. ‘There’s no point in everybody getting upset about it. I suppose worse things could happen.’

‘D’you know something, Heather?’ Liz said now. ‘Men are really, really stupid, aren’t they?’

Heather nodded. ‘I’m beginning to think they are.’

Liz reached over for the drinks, handing Heather hers first. ‘I don’t suppose Gerry had that wee lassie with him, did he?’

‘I didn’t look at him long enough to see,’ Heather replied.

A while later Jim came into the sitting-room on his own, obviously looking for the girls. He gave them a big cheery wave and then came over.

‘Enjoying yourselves, ladies?’ he asked, his face red and beaming from the bottles of beer he had already drunk.

‘We were,’ Liz told him, ‘until we saw your companion at the door.’

‘Oh, d’you mean Gerry?’ he said, pulling a chair in beside them. ‘He said the other place in Wishaw was dead, full of oul’ grannies and everything, so he told them he’d a sore head and he needed to go home.’

‘Very nice,’ Liz said, rolling her eyes disapprovingly.

Heather picked at a sandwich she didn’t want, saying nothing. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a row between Liz and Jim. Especially since it was obvious he’d had a bit to drink. Besides, he wasn’t going to see things from her point of view, no matter what. Gerry Stewart was like an idol to him, and he wasn’t interested in hearing anything derogatory about his pal. Keeping quiet seemed her best option, enduring the next couple of hours until it was time to go home.

‘You’re not going to believe it,’ Jim said laughing. He thumbed in the direction of the hallway. ‘That nut Gerry walked all the way from the bottom of Wishaw to get here. He said all the taxis were packed wi’ people headin’ home for the bells, so he was quicker hoofing it.’ He shook his head, but was obviously impressed with his friend’s effort. ‘Daft or what?’ Jim continued. ‘He said he wanted to have a good New Year in case he takes up that job in Australia, and he definitely wasn’t going to have a good night with all the oul’ ones in the other place.’

Mark McFarlane suddenly appeared through the crowds, and chatted to Jim for a while. Then he turned towards Heather. ‘D’you fancy another turn on the dance floor?’

A wave of relief flooded through Heather. An escape route, which would keep her well out of Gerry’s way for a wh
ile. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she told Liz, then she slid her small handbag over her wrist and followed Mark out toward
s the darkened room where all the couples were now dancing to a Glenn Miller tune. Her flimsy black stole slipped off one shoulder as she crossed the hallway, but she didn’t dare stop to fix it in case she found herself face-to-face with the cause of her anxiety.

‘I thought I’d never get back to you,’ Mark said, taking her into his arms. ‘I’d to see to a few things, but I think everything’s under control now. I can relax and enjoy myself.’

They moved around the floor nice and easy. Mark was obviously an accomplished dancer, and something about the way he moved and held her made Heather guess that he had probably gone to dancing lessons.

That was the sort of thing he would do, she imagined. He wanted to give a good impression with everything he did – he didn’t come across as the sort of person who would be content to be second-best at anything.

‘You’re a nice mover,’ he told Heather as they went into a quick-step for the next lively number. He gave a big warm smile. ‘I take it you like dancing?’

She suddenly caught sight of Gerry at the edge of the floor, staring across at them. She turned her head away, deliberately ignoring him. ‘I love it,’ Heather told him, smiling back in a friendlier manner than she really felt. Hopefully, Gerry would presume they were together and head off into one of the other rooms to find Jim or some other fellow to chat to. He might even find another girl.

They whirled around the floor, occasionally bumping into other couples and laughing good-naturedly about it and some­times getting a nice space where they could really do the dance justice. Liz and Jim waltzed up beside them, Liz tapping Heather playfully on the shoulder and obviously checking she was OK.

As the fourth dance together came to an end, Mark caught her around the waist tighter now, obviously feeling more confident and sure of himself. ‘You’re a very good-looking girl,’ he complimented her. ‘And obviously intelligent. I like a woman who knows her own mind.’

Heather laughed, throwing her head back. She was trying to keep things friendly and light, not wanting to encourage him too much, yet happy to look as though she was occupied with another fellow as far as Gerry was concerned. ‘You weren’t saying that earlier on when you were talking about a woman’s place being in the home!’

‘In your case,’ he called above the music, ‘I’d definitely be prepared to make an exception. You can lay down the terms and I’ll agree to anything!’

Heather laughed along with him, enjoying the light-hearted banter, but she was very careful to make sure that she didn’t lead him on in any way.

The record came to an end now, and they moved to the side of the dance floor, waiting for the next record to drop down onto the turntable. As they stood chatting, Heather suddenly became aware that the stole had slipped down from her shoulders leaving her voluptuous frontage uncovered. As she turned in a fluster to catch it, the fine satin material slithered out of her reach and floated down onto the dark depths of the floor.

She stood back for a moment, checking to see exactly where it had landed, then, just as she bent down to pick it up, Gerry Stewart seemed to appear out of nowhere and in a second he had quickly retrieved it for her.

When she saw him, Heather’s face visibly stiffened and she descended into a hostile, stony silence.

‘Sorry, but this is
my
dance, Mark,’ Gerry said, cutting in between them. ‘I think you’ve had Miss Grace long enough for one night.’ Without a word he handed her the stole back and – grateful to have the security of it back again – Heather clutched it against her chest.

Mark stepped back, his face dark and serious. ‘I don’t think so . . .’ he blustered, looking at Heather now, not quite sure how to react. ‘We weren’t actually finished . . .’

‘Well, I think you are now,’ Gerry told him.

Heather felt a hot rush of anger. ‘You can’t just cut in like
this,’ she hissed, not wanting to make a scene. The last thing she wanted was a row over her in Mark McFarlane’s lovely house. Only cheap, conniving girls had lads fighting over them, and even though she didn’t fancy him, she didn’t want Mark to think badly of her. ‘Don’t be so damned rude!’

It was quite obvious that Gerry had been drinking heavily again. She thought the Christmas episode had been a one-off. What had got into him now? The old Gerry she knew neither drank too much nor would ever have behaved in public in such a way. She knew he was still upset about them breaking up, but his behaviour had gone beyond a point that any girl would put up with.

‘Well, I think it’s time someone else got a chance to danc
e with Heather,’ Gerry said to Mark, completely ignoring what she had just said. He reached out, and very firmly took her hand in his. ‘So I think you’d be better off just finding yourself another partner.’ He gave a little smile. ‘I’m sure you won’t have any trouble, you being the host with the most tonight and everything.’

‘I’m still dancing with Mark,’ Heather said, pulling out of his grasp.

‘Look, you’ve been told,’ Mark said, suddenly squaring
up to him, his shoulder pushing against Gerry’s. ‘Just bugg
er off and leave us alone!’

Gerry stopped for a second, his eyes narrowing, then he turned his head to the side.

‘Touch me one more time,’ he said in a low, threatening voice, ‘and you won’t live to see the New Year in!’

Heather looked around now with wide, frightened e
yes, hoping that Jim might have seen what was happe
ning and come over to cool his friend down a bit – but there was no sign of him and Liz. They must have gone back into the sitting-room. Thankfully, nobody else seemed to be reacting to it.

Mark stared at Gerry for a few moments as though consider­ing the situation, then he suddenly backed off, his hands held up in a conciliatory manner. ‘OK,’ he said in a resigned tone, ‘I’m not going to ruin things for everybody else by getting into a stupid fight. It’s the wrong night for that.’ He adjusted his bow-tie then he looked at Heather. ‘I’ll come back for you later . . .’ Then he disappeared off through the other dancers.

Heather took a long, deep breath. ‘I hope you’re well pleased with yourself,’ she said, her brown eyes glinting and angry.

Gerry stared at her now, as though searching for something in her face. ‘I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean for that to happen.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have started the argument then,’ she told him.

‘I couldn’t help it,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve never seen you look as lovely . . . that dress is beautiful on you.’

Heather looked down at herself and realised that she was holding the flimsy stole by her side. Her cleavage was now very evident over the top of the low-necked lace dress a
nd her shoulders were almost bare, apart from the narrow
straps. She had never worn anything as daring as this before, and certainly not while she was going out with Gerry. Heather was suddenly conscious of his eyes taking in every tiny inch of her bare skin.

She turned away from him, adjusting her hair, and then started to put the stole back on, but his hand came out to gently catch hers and prevent her from covering herself up again.

‘Please dance with me, Heather,’ Gerry said, in a small, pleading voice. ‘Just one dance? Surely you don’t hate me that much that you won’t have a dance with me at New Year?’

She looked past him now to see Jim and Liz coming back in to join the other dancers and she gave a sigh of relief. Jim would be able to handle him. He wasn’t that drunk that he wouldn’t listen to his friend. Then, as she watched them start dancing together, she suddenly felt that it wasn’t fair on them to have to mediate between her and Gerry. They wouldn’t have too many party nights for a while. By the time they got the wedding organised and settled into where they would live, they would have very little money. They would also have very few nights out together before the baby came. And certainly not in a nice house like this.

‘Please dance with me . . .’ Gerry said again, and the broken tone of his voice suddenly touched something inside her.

‘If I do,’ she bargained with him quietly, hoping that no one was listening, ‘will you promise to leave me alone?’

Silently Gerry nodded his head. He opened his arms and she moved towards him.

Kirsty stepped back on stage after the break, brimming over with delight and confidence. Apparently the manager of the hotel had approached Larry after only a few numbers to ask if he could book her immediately for some events he had coming up. There was a big football event, a charity night and a business­men’s dinner, to name a few off the top of his head, and the manager told Larry that he was sure Kirsty would go down a bomb.

‘She’s a wee star!’ he’d said. ‘In fact, she’s rarer that that – she’s a wee diamond!’

When she had finished the first half and gone backstag
e, Larry had come rushing through to tell her the news. ‘It’s not just the bookings I’m delighted with,’ he had told Kirsty excitedly, looking more like a handsome film star than ever in his tuxedo and fancy bow-tie, ‘it’s the reaction to your performance – your voice and the choice of songs.’ Then he had leaned forward and very gently put the tips of his fingers on either side of her face. ‘You’re going places in 1956, Kirsty Grace! Mark my words.’